It was a dark and stormy morning, the type of morning that made Matoran stay in their beds and try to get an extra hour of sleep, the kind that no-one was ever out it- other than the Lightning ones. They liked storms. But that's beside the point of the situation.
A lone figure happily whistled to himself as he walked down a river-side town, nearing the river that ended its semicircle of buildings. He didn't know what it was called, nor did it matter, for he-somehow, he wasn't all that sure- had three things that were important.
The first was his purple masked, currently dripping with rain.
The second was a hand-mirror, the kind Ga-Matoran would use to make sure their mask was on just straight for those times when it simply had to be.
And the last was a staff. An indescribable staff. A staff of something that perhaps shouldn't be trifled with.
A Staff of Unlimited Power.
The Host came to the river and nodded to himself, grinning. Tap-tap-tap, the Staff against the mirror. Sploosh. In went the reflective surface. The Toa snapped his fingers.
And on the other side of the river, where there was formerly just jungle, there was a carbon-copy of this village-but it was different. Where the first was white, this was black. Where glow-stones shone bright in the first, their glow was red on the other side. Where Matoran slept in the first, nothing was in the second, but for dastardly creatures that rose from the shadows of special ones in the first villager. He snapped his fingers once more, then again.
A firey glow came from a house, than died off. At the same time a cold wind came through, chilling the village.
Next the mirror rose from the depths, growing and twisting, until it became a bridge between the halves, moon glinting off the glass and handle jutting out over the still-raging river.
"Let the game.. Begin."